


Experimentation

by twii2ted_8333335



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bad Humor, Biting, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Exhibitionism, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pines family was used to hearing small bangs and the occasional worrisome explosion come from somewhere in the Shack, but this crash was the first one to really grab their attention in a long while. Mainly due the obscene cursing — or what most of them assumed to be cursing since the language spoken was unlike anything they’d heard — that followed.</p><p>“Jeez, wonder what’s got his panties in a bunch?” The joke was met with silence. “Don’t everyone laugh at once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, yeah more stancest and yeah this took longer than I’d originally intended Bc it’s a lot longer than I originally intended. I won’t lie, I looked at [this headcanon](http://stan-o-wars.tumblr.com/post/126946785102/ford-has-great-legs-like-shapely-legs-and-a) by stan-o-wars on tumblr and wanted to do something but this… this got out of hand.  
> So uh, it references my other stories but I still don’t think you’ll need to read them to enjoy this. Just know they’ve done a lot of things in the past.

The Pines family was used to hearing small bangs and the occasional worrisome explosion come from somewhere in the Shack, but this crash was the first one to really grab their attention in a long while. Mainly due the obscene cursing — or what most of them assumed to be cursing since the language spoken was unlike anything they'd heard — that followed. 

"Jeez, wonder what's got his panties in a bunch?" The joke was met with silence. "Don't everyone laugh at once." 

From the other room, there was the faint laughter of Soos. It boosted Stan's mood but he said nothing on it.

Another string of curses had Dipper gnawing on a stray pen nervously. They just seemed to pop out of nowhere sometimes. "One of us should go check on him before he destroys the whole shack." 

Mabel and Stan both agreed but none of them moved. 

And then Stan felt eyes boring into him from across the kitchen table. 

He tried to ignore them but the more he did, the more intense the gazes felt. He dared to glance over at Mabel since she was more directly across from him and was greeted with wide, glittery eyes and a pout with so much lower lip action, Stan swore he saw the kid's gums. He groaned in annoyance and finally stood up. Mabel cheered triumphantly, hands thrown up into the air. 

"Hey, don't get any ideas. I'm doing this for you, not for him." Mabel rolled her eyes, shooing him off, "Go, go or I'll push you!" 

Stan grumbled his complaints until he was out of earshot and descending into the depths of his brother's realm. 

It was a mess in the basement. He knew that. It was a hot, sweaty, unappealing mess, and Stan could barely find Ford in it. The now quietly cursing twin was on the bed he'd been forced to bring down, searching frantically for something between the mattress and wall. His legs were spread slightly, thighs taut as he supported himself on them, back end up higher than his head was. 

Stan wouldn't deny that he stared at the sight, and his twin was none the wiser about it. Or if he was, he didn't show it. He just kept on searching as Stan approached him and gave that fantastic ass a firm squeeze, one cheek in each hand. 

Ford nearly kicked his face in as he rolled over, which he was almost certain was on purpose, but Stan saw the bright blush on his cheeks and forgave him for it.

"What do you think you're doing, Stanley?" 

"Well, I was supposed to come down here to make sure you weren't getting torn in half with all that screaming you were doing, but I got a little distracted. Who knew you still had such a great backside after all these years," Stan chuckled as he watched his twin's blush grow darker, spreading up to his ears. 

"If you say so," Ford cleared his throat, "As you can see, I'm doing fine. I've just... misplaced a, um... An experiment of mine. So you can leave." 

He could. Theoretically, he could turn around and tell Mabel he was fine and that would be that. He could do that _but_ where was the fun in that? Ford's blush wasn't going away and he looked tense, like he was hiding something. Stan wasn't going to let him lie his way out of this one. 

"How about I help you find it so you don't freak out the kids anymore?" 

The query was met with silence as Ford seemed to process it and outcomes that would follow. Ford became increasingly fidgety, eventually shaking his head, "No, no, it's fine, I'll try to keep my voice down. I know where it is now, I felt it down there. I just can't reach it — " Stan moved passed his twin, intent on reaching down to where this so called experiment had been. He ignored his brother's frantic attempts to stop him, fingers digging into his shoulders and voice rising a bit, "Stanley, Stanley, wait, I don't need you to help me. You're going to-to ruin the experiment, just let me get it in my own time." He was practically grasping at straws for an excuse, anything to keep Stan from touching what he was trying so desperately to keep secret. 

His fingers met something soft, just barely giving under his touch. It was much harder beneath the smooth exterior. He grasped at it, knowing he could fully reach it but not sure if he wanted to pull it into view just yet. Listening to Ford frantic excuses and seeing his face flush was just too amusing. It was a nice change of pace from the stifled words and awkward silences they usually shared nowadays.

Stan's finger found a button and he pressed it curiously. Whatever he was touching vibrated at him and he jumped, not expecting that. He hadn't pressed hard enough to presumably keep it on so there was no more vibration to confirm or deny what happened. 

"It buzzed at me!" He shouted before he could fully think things through. 

Ford couldn't stop the snorting laugh at that. "It-it's supposed to. That's it's, ah, main function, you-you could say." Stan could see the facade dropping, could see he was getting closer to finding out the truth behind this. Even if he already knew by this point. 

There was a brief moment of silence. Stan heard the unsaid offer to leave again. He could leave, especially now that he knew what he was getting into. He could leave and still tell Mabel that her grunkle was fine and keep this secret. He _could_ and yet, that blush was still ever present on his twin's features and enticing him. Maybe he could get away with just a little more. 

"This experiment of yours," he started, recovering from his freaked out state earlier, "I could help you with it." 

Ford's eyes went wide, red all the way to his sweater collar, "Do you hear yourself right now? Do you even know what you're suggesting?" 

Stan nodded, a perverse grin slipping onto his lips. He reached behind the bed, wasting no time in retrieving Ford's "experiment" this time. "What difference does it make who's holding it though? Maybe you can do a comparison experiment. Compare variables or something like that. In control versus no control." 

He had to admit, Stan was trying. The awful thing about it was that it was working. He wanted to see what Stan had in mind, see if it lived up to his usual routine. He doubted it would with the way his brother was staring at him the way a starving man looked on a feast. 

Brother. They were brothers. When they were younger, they could feign innocence, could pretend for a while that it didn't matter but they were older now. They were fully aware that this was horribly wrong.

But it didn't count if Stan was using — _that_ on him right? Ford certainly tried to convince himself that that was the case. 

He cleared his throat again, "Very well, Stanley, you've piqued my interest." 

He tried not to smile when Stan gave a little whoop of excitement. He set down his "experiment" and Ford allowed his brother to pull him closer and closer until he was actually straddling his lap. 

Stan's lips didn't go to Ford's first, though he saw the idea flash in his eyes. Those lips, chapped but warm, familiar, pressed against his jaw line, mouthing wet, open kisses along his skin. Ford sighed at the contact, relaxing a little more with each one. He tilted his head back as Stanley's lips trailed down his neck. He tugged his sweater down when he reached it, not letting it impede him.

Then he went back up the same trail and down it again, and it was all rather... sweet. Fingers swept across his skin under his sweater, caressing his sides and unintentionally tickling his ribs. He wondered how much Stan missed this.

Stan's lips lingered on his neck and Ford found that his own hands were threaded through the other's hair, keeping him there. He ravished the skin, going so far as nipping and sucking at it, Ford's breath becoming heavier the longer it went on. 

And then Stan full on bit down on him and Ford cried out loudly, grip tightening and hips rocking briefly against his brother's stomach. 

That word again. Brother. This was supposed to be a quick experiment, hardly any touching and it was rapidly becoming the opposite. They were falling back into an old routine, one Ford _craved_. Those lips now, those fingers, these touches, so different from his own — he wanted it again, needed it. Five fingers instead of six rubbing his skin, removing his sweater, undoing his pants. Calloused and rough and big hands laying him down on the bed, tugging his pants off completely. He missed this, more than he cared to admit.

Stan raised a brow at him, "No underwear, Sixer?" 

Ford's cheeks flushed as he averted his gaze, "Just today. I-I was planning on this experiment for a-for a while." Stanley's laugh was warm and a little too loud for him to feel comfortable. He didn't need the kids coming down here and-and seeing this mess.

"Ooo, whatcha thinking about? You're getting excited over here." Stan's hand found the base of his length and gave it a squeeze. Ford groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. "Thinking about getting caught again? You ever talk to Fidds about that?"

"God, no," his voice trembled as Stan stroked him languidly, "I could hardly-hardly look at him for a while let alone _confront_ him about that." 

"I do have a hearing aid now, you know." Ford let out an airy laugh at that, rolling his hips into his twin's hand. 

"Maybe I was a little loud that night."

"Let's hope you aren't that loud this time or we'll get a repeat of then." 

Stan pulled his hand away and grabbed the toy from where he'd set it earlier. He examined it, pressed the button a few times. Once kept it on. The second push had it buzzing louder. The third one had it visibly moving, it vibrated that much. The fourth one turned it off. 

"Fresh batteries?" Ford nodded, too embarrassed to speak. Stanley cycled through the intensities again, gauging Ford's reaction to each with a grin, then unscrewed the cap on the end, just enough so that when he pressed the button a few more times, nothing happened. The batteries stayed firmly inside. 

Ford held his breath when Stanley's head ducked between his legs, experiment forgotten again. He had to admit he was surprised when he felt lips on his thighs, just soft, closed mouth kisses against his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline and confusion pulsing through him. Why, why, why was he being so gentle and caring and — and like he used to? After all these years, he still treated Ford with the same soft strokes of his thumbs and the same delicate dabs of his tongue and the same gentle tugs on his ankles to pull Ford's legs over his shoulders. Why? 

"You're thinking too much," he muttered against his inner thigh, nipping lightly at him. "Quit it."

"Stanley — "

"Where d'you keep the lube, Fordsy?"

"Under my pillow. Now, Stanley — " 

"Really? Geez, you do this often?" Ford didn't have a chance to reply as Stan sat back up, keeping his legs over his shoulders and practically bending him in half as he reached under his pillow. A lopsided grin plastered onto his face. "Guess so. You got pretty flexible huh?" 

Ford's cheeks reddened again. "Shut up."

Stan laughs, grinding his hips against his brother's ass. "Never." He coats his fingers in lube, then lowers himself again, letting Stanford relax easier. He spreads his brother's legs a little wider, fingers circling his entrance as his lips return to his thighs, lavishing him with kisses and bites that would surely bruise later. 

"What on Earth is your," he exhaled sharply as Stanley finally pressed a finger inside him, making small, shallow thrusts, "your fixation with my legs?" His hips lifted just a bit, trying to encourage more movement, more fingers, more anything. He wasn't as delicate as Stan was making him out to be.

"Love them," he murmured, not stopping his ministrations, "Always loved 'em. Loved 'em when they were framing my face when I ate your pretty little ass out when we were teens. Loved 'em when they were trembling when I sucked you off in school. Loved 'em when they'd wrap around my waist. Love 'em now, all firm and muscle and _you_. Love you, Stanford. Always have, always will." 

Ford couldn't breathe. He didn't know how to react. He was embarrassed and aroused and flattered all at once. 

Stanley pushed another finger inside him, giving his skin another tug with his teeth. He moaned unabashedly, drowning out his brother's repeated whispers of, "Love you, love you, love you, Ford." 

Stan finished prepping Ford in relative silence, all things considered. Ford's gasps were breathy and his moans, though uncovered, never felt too loud that anyone would hear through the thick walls of the basement, not even when Stan rubbed at his prostate and his twin's hips jerked violently at the touch, practically writhing. 

That was when he pulled his fingers out, letting Ford's gorgeous, shuddering legs fall from his shoulders. 

He did a once over of his brother as he spread lube over his experimental toy. Ford was red all over, chest heaving and skin damp with sweat. His hair clung to his face and his arm, still partially draped over his face. His one visible eye was glossy and unfocused. He nearly convulsed with each breath, erection bobbing between his legs. What a sight. Still as perfect as it was when they were younger. 

"Lee — you're staring."

"Yeah? Couldn't tell. My eyes ain't what they used to be." 

"You're as insufferable as ever." 

Stan smiled softly. Familiarly. "I love you too, Poindexter." 

An old routine. That's what they were going through. That's what Stanford kept telling himself. 

Stanley lifted one of Ford's legs over his shoulder again, pressing the head of the toy against his exposed entrance. Stanford's breath hitched as he was filled, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. He hummed in delight as Stan started up with his shallow thrusts again, working his twin back into the zone, careful not to knock the still loose cap off the end of the toy. 

When he found a good angle to drag the toy across his prostate, his grin turned down right evil. He turned his head, giving a quick kiss to the side of Ford's knee before twisting the cap back into place. The toy buzzed to life.

" _Ah! Lee!_ " Ford's hips bucked at the sudden intense vibrations, Stan having kept the toy on the highest setting, even after all that clicking. It didn't last long after that, not after Stanley worked him up so much. That on top of the over stimulation to his senses — it was almost too much for him to handle. Needless to say it was one of the best orgasms he'd had in a while. 

A noise left Ford's lips when the toy was turned off and removed, some strange combination of exhaustion and frustration and disappointment. He half wished he could've lasted longer. 

No. It was better this way. The experiment was over. They could move on now.

Except Stanley was still kissing his leg, moving up and up, and Ford made a face when he paused at his come covered stomach. 

"Stanley, you're not going to — "

He didn't. Stan's lips moved swiftly and caught his twin's for the first time in — in over thirty years. Forty even. Ford froze at first, analyzing what he should do. Those lips were so comforting, soothing, so distinctly his brother's. He didn't realize how much he'd missed them. They couldn't do this though, they couldn't be doing this at their age — 

"Stop thinking, Sixer, and kiss me." 

He complied despite his thoughts screaming against it. His hands threaded into Stan's hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as much as he could. He didn't pull back until he needed air and even then Stan captured his lips between breaths. 

"Lee- need to- get cleaned up."

"Do it later."

"Lee..."

"Ford..." 

They kissed a while longer before Stan did finally find something to use to clean up with. Luckily, Ford had a few usable towels down in his mess of a living space. 

"You didn't get off," Ford noted, swallowing dryly. His throat was beginning to ache. 

"I don't usually unless we're actually... y'know." He made an obscene gesture with his hands, grinning perversely again. 

Ford didn't know that. Though now that he thought about it, it seemed that was the case. Most of the instances he thought of involved him running the course and then cuddling up beside his brother and sleeping, or Stan saying he'd get off later and perhaps never did. 

"He-here," Ford sat up slowly, then lowered himself to the floor as Stan sat on the edge of the bed. He watched his brother undo his pants, then take his still mostly erect cock out of his boxers. He watched as trembling lips took the head into his mouth, sucking softly. A six fingered hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly but gaining speed. 

He finally lost it when Ford looked up at him, cheeks flush, lips damp and eyes worried that he wasn't doing the right thing when Stanley gave no overwhelming response. In his surprise, Ford pulled back, most of Stan's come ending up on his face instead of in his mouth. He groaned in disgust. 

"Damn it, Stanley!"

"Hey, that was your own fault! You're the one that moved!" 

They bickered while Ford found another towel to wipe his face off with, stopping only when Stan dragged his twin down into another kiss. They fell back onto the bed, the anger in the kiss fading into passion and then into lazy presses of lips. 

They shifted together until Stan's chest was pressed against Ford's back, an arm curled around Ford's waist like he'd dreamed of feeling again since the night Stan called him. Stan pressed tiny kisses against the back of his neck. 

"So."

"So?"

"What's the verdict on your experiment?" 

"Tiring. Very tiring." 

Stan snorted, snuggling closer to his brother. He tugged a few stray blankets over them. 

"Better than alone?"

"Much better." 

Ford's hand drifted and rested beneath Stan's, fingers lacing together. 

"I love you, Stanford." 

No response this time. Stan couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips. He let his eyes drift shut, half asleep when he could've sworn he heard, "I love you too, Stanley." 

Ford felt the smile against his skin. Wrong or not, that smile made this experiment a success.

**Author's Note:**

> my sense of humor is non existent I'm so sorry for every bad joke


End file.
